


Rollin' Rollin' Rollin'

by crochetaway



Series: Drabbles and OneShots [40]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Fake Dating, Forced Relationship, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Potions Accident, Soulmates, Threesome, Time Travel, crack!fic, marriage law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-06-15 05:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: A collection of drabbles from the Hermione's Haven FB group Roll-a-Drabble monthly event. All works featuring Hermione Granger in a variety of settings with a variety of partners.





	1. Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in January 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Neville and Time Travel. No beta other than Grammarly. Will also be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**

_September 2002_

"I think this one is it, Neville!" Hermione shouted as she bounded from her study to the greenhouse where Neville was repotting vervain.

"What is, 'Mione?" Neville asked distractedly as he looked up at his fiancée. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, knowing he was getting dirt everywhere.

"This!" Hermione triumphantly held up a sheet of parchment that was littered with arithmantic equations and charts. Neville frowned, he'd never taken Arithmancy. It was all Greek to him.

"And what  _is_  that?" Neville asked. He stepped around the bench to pull Hermione into a hug.

"The calculations needed to save your parents," she whispered into his chest.

Neville stopped breathing. It couldn't. She wouldn't.

"I can save them," Hermione said emphatically as she propped her chin on his chest, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.

"Okay," Neville nodded. He'd let her try and save them. But he didn't voice his skepticism.

* * *

_October 2002_

"This feels like a bad idea," Neville told Hermione as she prepared for her trip.

"It'll be fine. It's a far jump, but I've run the calculations a thousand times. It's going to work," Hermione said as she tightened the strings on her boots. She straightened and flashed Neville a brilliant smile. "I promise. I'll see you in a jiff."

She leaned up and kissed him briefly on the mouth then stepped away. A quick turn of the Time-Turner hanging around her neck and she was gone. Neville sat down heavily in the armchair in front of the fire to wait. And wait. And wait.

Hermione showed back up about ten hours later. She promptly collapsed, and Neville rushed to her side. He cast a general diagnostic spell and could see nothing more than exhaustion, both physical and magical. He gathered her into his arms and brought her to their bedroom. He undressed her slowly, very carefully removing the Time-Turner and laid her on their bed.

Neville sighed as he watched her sleep. He was tired, but couldn't bear the thought of not being awake when Hermione woke up. So he waited.

* * *

_November 2002_

"I've got it this time, Nev," Hermione beamed at him.

Neville swallowed the lump in his throat. She was beautiful and brilliant, but hell-bent on this idea that Neville needed his parents back. Neville didn't want to tell her that he didn't care. He should care. He knew he should care. But he'd rather just have his fiancée back.

"Are you sure?" Neville asked. He was in the greenhouse again, his happy place.

"Yep, I just needed to come up with something that would deter the Lestranges and Crouch while I get your parents out."

"Okay," Neville acquiesced. How could he tell this magnificent creature, who was spending so much time and effort to give him back his parents, that he didn't want her to? He didn't know. He shook his head. "When will you be going?"

"Tomorrow," she grinned and skipped out of the greenhouse. Neville sighed heavily.

* * *

Hermione appeared crumpled in front of him once more. Neville cradled her to him and cast a diagnostic. Exhaustion. Again.

* * *

_December 2002_

"I swear I've got it this time," Hermione said.

"No." Neville shook his head.

"What?"

"No," Neville said more forcefully. "Enough of this."

"But—" her eyes began to tear up.

"Nothing. You're done. I'm done. I can't keep… you can't keep doing this," Neville said. He knelt before Hermione sitting in the armchair in front of the hearth. "You come back exhausted and dejected and half-dead. I don't want to lose you. It's fine."

"No! It's not fine!" Hermione shouted and tried to pull her hands away.

"Listen to me!" Neville tugged on her hands once more, getting her attention again. "You are enough, Hermione. You are. I don't need my parents if I have you. If I lose you too…" he trailed off. "I don't think I could survive that," he admitted quietly.

"Oh, Neville," Hermione sighed and buried herself in his arms, knocking him flat on his back to the floor. She cried into his chest, and Neville knew she was crying for his parents as much as hers. She'd been trying to save his parents because she'd been unable to save her own. She insisted one of them needed parents. He held her as she cried, letting her get it all out.

"I love you, Hermione," Neville murmured. "Never forget that. I love you, and you are enough."


	2. Evil Ollie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in February 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Oliver and Forced Relationship. No beta other than Grammarly. Will also be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**

"Why?" Hermione Granger asked as she'd asked for the fifteenth time that morning. She didn't understand it.

Oliver Wood pulled back the sleeve of his left arm, showing Hermione his Dark Mark, again.

"Does it bother you?" he asked. A cruel smirk was playing about his lips.

Hermione steeled her spine, "No."

"Good," he pushed his sleeve back down. "Because we're to be married, love."

Hermione felt her stomach roll at the thought of marrying the wizard before her. He'd once been so kind, a bit of a Quidditch nut, but kind all the same. What had happened to turn him into this cruel, cold man?

"Right, the new law?" Hermione asked even though she knew the answer.

"Mmm, yes the new law," Oliver replied, he began circling Hermione, eying her from every angle. She stood as still as possible, unsure of his intentions. They were standing in the small bedroom Hermione had been imprisoned in since the war had ended four months ago and her side had lost. She was thankful it wasn't a dungeon. She wasn't sure if it would be better to be dead, like Harry, like Ron.

"I think you'll do," Oliver said finally, coming to stand before her.

Hermione pursed her lips but didn't say anything. She'd learned to curb her sass in the last four months. Sass earned the right not to eat. Or worse, the Cruciatus Curse.

"Why?" she asked him again. Why had he become a Death Eater? What had happened?

"You ask that as though there is a deeper meaning to the world, love," Oliver tsked. "Power. And winning. I like to win at all costs. Surely you know that by now? We did attend school together after all."

"You took the Dark Mark, decided to follow an insane psychopathic megalomaniac so you could win?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Oliver smirked, "And it felt great. The winning bit."

Her lip curled in disgust. She was going to be forced to marry this wizard? To have sex with him? She shivered as a tendril of fear crept down her spine, and her flesh broke out in goosebumps.

"Just like it'll feel great when I finally win you over too." Oliver gave her a chilling smile, and Hermione closed her eyes. She couldn't look at him, and she knew she'd never get the look he'd given her out of her mind. He had looked as deranged and demented as the Dark Lord. She felt the steel in her spine sag a bit at the thought of a lifetime tied to this man.


	3. Compatibility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in May 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Blaise, Crack!Fic, Marriage Law, and Break up. No beta other than Grammarly. Will also be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**

The day I broke up with Ron Weasley was not the best day of my life. But it wasn't the worst. No, the worst came the day  _after_  I broke up with Ron. Breaking up with Ron was inevitable, and if I was being honest with myself, I should have done it months ago. Before he followed me around our flat with his penis flopping about begging me to stay.

"Can you put that thing away?" I snapped at him. I was sick of looking at it, jouncing against his leg, covered in some other woman's secretions. That  _other_  woman was cowering in our bedroom, a sheet wrapped around her. At least someone was still afraid of me when I was angry and had a wand in my hand.

"What? This?" Ron gyrated his hips, making his penis swing around, slapping at his thighs.

"Ew, yes," I muttered and turned back to the living room, making sure I had everything I wanted. I flipped my suitcase closed and shrank it.

"You used to like this," Ron said, suddenly too close to me. He placed his hands on my hips and humped my bum. "You used to beg for it."

"Yeah, because you were a prude who didn't want to put out," I told him and stepped away from him. I was going to have to burn these jeans now.

"Come on, 'Mione. Where will you even go?"

"Anywhere but here," I muttered and left the flat we'd shared for three years.

It didn't take me long to get to the Leaky Cauldron and pay for a room for the night. I could stay here for a few weeks until I found a new place. I sighed and climbed the stairs, ready to turn in for the night.

* * *

The day after I broke it off with Ron, the  _Daily Prophet_  had a giant-sized headline splashed across the front page: MINISTRY PASSES MARRIAGE LAW!

Dear Godric above, what fresh hell was this? I quickly read through the article becoming more horrified the further along I read. Not only had the Ministry passed a marriage law, but it also went into effect immediately. All magical folk aged eighteen to thirty-five had precisely three weeks to find a partner of different blood status and marry. Failure to do so would result in fines and possibly a prison sentence.

Three weeks to find a pure-blood or half-blood to marry me? Fuck. Ron was going to be knocking on my door five minutes after he caught wind of this. How would I turn him down now? There was no way in hell I would marry him. Not when he'd cheat on me and still expect me to stay, the callous bastard.

No, this meant I had to find someone to marry before Ron tracked me down. But who?

* * *

The answer to that question found me rather abruptly. I'd just left my room to head downstairs for some breakfast when another patron left their room and bumped directly into me. Blaise Zabini. He looked good, although I wasn't sure I had seen him since sixth year.

"Granger!" Zabini shouted. Too loudly. I narrowed my eyes at him, was he drunk? It was nine in the morning.

"Just the girl I was looking for," Zabini went on, throwing his arm around my shoulders. His words slurred. He was definitely drunk.

"Yeah? What can I do for you, Zabini?"

"Marry me!"

"Right, I'm sure you have a little half-blood or something you've been dipping your wick into. Marry her." I did need to find someone to marry, but Zabini? He was a known playboy. I wouldn't marry Ron because I was sure he'd cheat. No way, would I marry Zabini. He'd cheat and then ask me to join in. I curled my lip and tossed his arm from my shoulders. Which was not good for Zabini. Apparently, I had been keeping him up, and he stumbled into the wall and slid down it.

"Shit," he muttered. "I'm too fucking pissed."

"Right, sober up and ask me again," I told him thinking there was no way he was serious.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

Three days later, Ron had finally tracked me down. Currently, he was pounding on the door to my room at the Leaky Cauldron. I had just slammed it in his face.

"Come on, 'Mione! Who else will do it?"

Rage burned hot in my chest, and I struggled not to cry. Who else would marry me, indeed? I knew Ron Weasley was a bit of an ass, but this? This was not to be born. I had just decided to whip the door open and hex the git when I heard a thump.

"Hey!" Ron shouted.

"You are disturbing my fiance. Leave," a low smooth voice responded. I pressed my ear to the door, trying to figure out who my unintentional savior was.

"Right," Ron responded and knocked on the door again. I winced as the door pounded into my temple. Bad idea, Granger.

Another thump. "That's my fiance," the smooth voice said.

"'Mione? Hey! 'Mione! Open up! Some bloke thinks you're going to marry him. Tell him you already have plans!" Ron shouted and pounded.

I whipped the door open, my wand up to see Blaise Zabini standing behind Ron with a smirk on his face.

"Tell him, 'Mione," Ron whinged.

"Ron, get it through your thick skull. I am NOT marrying you. Four days ago you were fucking some other witch in our flat. Why in Circe's name would I want to marry you?"

"Well, who else is going to marry you?" Ron asked. I could tell he wasn't truly trying to be mean, but still, the breath left my body in a whoosh. But before I could hex him, Blaise had done it already.

"The fuck?!" Ron shouted, grabbing at his arse.

"I'm marrying her, you fool," Blaise said. "Now go."

Ron threw a dirty look at me over his shoulder before limping away.

"That's news to me," I said as Blaise leaned against the door of my room and smirked at me.

"You said to come back when I was sober. Here I am." He held his arms out wide as if he was offering himself up for inspection.

I pursed my lips and considered his offer. I still had seventeen days to find someone else, but Blaise was here and offering.

"I won't tolerate cheating," I warned. "If we marry, it'll be a true marriage, with everything that involves."

Blaise's eyes widened, and his smirk deepened into a smile. "I think I can live with that."

"What if we aren't compatible?" I was suddenly uncertain of myself in front of him. He was very pretty, and I felt very plain next to him.

"Let's find out," he purred and stalked forward. Before I had time to move more than a step or two backward, he had caught me around the waist, pressing his body into mine. My breath caught in my throat at the feeling of his hard chest against my breasts. Electricity sang through my veins as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine. Oh, we were so compatible. I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him close. He fumbled for his wand, pointed it at the door then dropped it to the floor when the door banged shut.

We didn't make it to the bed until much, much later that day. And there we found out how good we could be together.


	4. The Right One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in June 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Dark!Hermione/Lupin and Time Travel. No beta other than Grammarly. Will also be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**

Hermione huffed as she finished packing her beaded bag. The war was not going well and she was being sent off on another mission. One she didn't particularly want to partake in. It would take her too far away from the one she wanted to be with. Just then, the tent-flap opened, and he joined her.

"Are you quite sure you need him?" Hermione asked as his arms slid around her waist, pulling her back to his chest.

"Yes," he hissed in her ear. "It's the only way to solidify the pack. He was the first." He planted a kiss on her neck, and Hermione tilted her head, allowing him better access.

"Then are you sure it has to be me?" she asked with a groan as he bit lightly on her throat.

He chuckled, low and deep, "Yes, it has to be you, love. I've seen the way he looks at you. He won't be able to resist."

Hermione sighed and spun in her lovers arms. She looked up into his deep blue eyes, running a hand through the dreadlocks of his hair. "If you're sure."

He dipped his head and pressed a fierce kiss to her lips. A kiss Hermione couldn't help but respond to.

"I'm sure," Fenrir Greyback murmured as he pulled away.

Hermione nodded and pulled the Time-Turner from beneath her jumper out. "Should be two turns of the big ring, right?"

"That's right, get him to my side before the end of the first war. Then he'll be panting after you in time until this war."

Hermione smirked at Fenrir and stood on her tiptoes, pressing one more kiss against his mouth. "You know I might have to sleep with him?"

"As long as you come back mine," Fenrir growled, kissing her once more.

"Always," Hermione assured him as she stepped back and spun the Time-Turner.

When the world stopped spinning around her, Hermione found herself not in a tent, but in a forest. The sun was still shining over her head, and she had the coordinates for her target's home, she just had to track him down.

A quick pop of Apparition later found Hermione staring at a small, slightly unkempt cottage. She was deep in the forest now, and there wasn't a single light coming from the cottage. She debated whether she should break in and wait for her prey then or if she should wait for him outside the cottage. Deciding that waiting inside might seem overly aggressive, Hermione resolved herself to wait outside. She hunkered down next to a tree.

"Who are you?" a gruff voice said, waking Hermione from the slumber she'd fallen into.

Shit, her target had his wand pressed to her throat.

"Please!" Hermione said. "I didn't know I was intruding. I just got lost, and my wand broke. I was exhausted. I was just going to rest for a few minutes before moving on."

The man's face softened. "Death Eater's?"

Hermione nodded quickly, feigning tears. "They attacked my home. Killed every—" she broke off in a sob and was delighted when her target lowered his wand entirely and began helping her to stand.

She smiled at him gratefully, and he put an arm around her waist to guide her to his cottage. Hermione had known he was a big softie, but even for him, this was a bit dense. He settled her on his sofa and began bustling in the kitchen area rummaging for tea.

"I'm Remus Lupin," he said when he set the tray of steaming tea down on the table before her.

"Hermione Wolfe," Hermione said, giving him a fake last name. She wasn't surprised when he flinched slightly. This was going to be easier than she thought. Fenrir was right, Lupin was a lonely man, and with the right amount of pressure, Hermione was sure she could turn him to Fenrir's side. To the Dark Lord's side.


	5. Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in July 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Dark!Hermione/Draco/Adrian and Threesome. No beta other than Grammarly. Will also be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**

They took everything from her. Everything. Harry was dead. Ron was dead. Her parents were dead. Voldemort was dead. At least Voldemort deserved to die. The only one in a long line of deaths who actually deserved it. And what was Hermione left with when it was all over, and the dust began to settle?

Nothing.

She was left with nothing.

She was left with less than nothing. She didn't want to be feted as the only surviving member of the 'Golden Trio.' So they didn't fete her. They did something worse. They ignored her. They ignored the reasons that Voldemort was able to take over the wizarding world. They ignored the rot. They ignored the pureblood mania. They ignored everything and went right back to the status quo.

Arthur and Percy encouraged her to go work for the Ministry. Shacklebolt rubbed his hands together in glee at the thought. Hermione turned down their offer. She was not going to watch this world that she had fought so hard for a return to stagnation. Molly and Minerva encouraged her to go to St Mungo's, to become a healer. Hermione turned down their offer. She was not going to bury her head in the sand as the new regime followed in the old regimes footsteps.

No, Hermione Granger had a plan. Nobody else was fit to rule the wizarding world. Everyone else wanted things just to go back to normal. Was it normal to have purebloods all hold the highest and best positions in the Ministry? Was it normal that Muggleborns and half-bloods all ended up in either dead-end Ministry jobs or as shopkeepers? Was it normal for a Muggleborn child to be bullied and teased for not knowing about the wizarding world? It was not. Not in Hermione's opinion.

The wizarding world was full of sheep. They followed along blindly. The blind leading the blind until someone stronger came along. And even then, they didn't recognize Voldemort for what he was until it was much too late. Twice. Hermione snorted at that thought. They allowed Voldemort to take over twice. It was inconceivable how stupid the wizarding world was.

But stupidity would be the lynchpin to Hermione's entire plan. Stupidity and the two men standing before her now. One was a powerful pureblood scion of the wealthiest house in wizarding Britain. The other, a star solicitor for the Ministry who knew the ins and outs of every law the Wizengamot had ever passed in its five hundred year history.

"An Unbreakable Vow, my lady," Draco Malfoy said. "I would swear whatever you wished to follow you."

"Same," Adrian Pucey drawled.

The heat in their eyes inflamed Hermione's own lusts. But she couldn't think of those things yet. First, she had to secure her alliances. Then they could quench each other's thirsts.

"Anything?" She lifted an eyebrow as she sat upon the throne-like chair Draco had led her to.

"Anything," Draco whispered and fell to his knees before her.

"Bond us," Hermione commanded as she reached out her right hand and grasped Draco's right forearm.

Adrian stepped forward his wand at the ready.

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear your undying loyalty and allegiance to me, Hermione Jean Granger? To always follow my orders and obey my every command?"

"I do so swear." Adrian tapped his wand on their wrists, and a ribbon of bright white magic shot out of the end of his wand and wrapped tightly around their clasped hands.

"And do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to do whatever you can in your power to put me, Hermione Jean Granger, on the throne of wizarding Britain?"

"I do so swear." Adrian tapped his wand again, and another bright white ribbon wrapped itself around their wrists.

"And do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to uphold any and all laws that I, Hermione Jean Granger, put in place as I see fit?"

"I do so swear." Another tap of Adrian's wand and another ribbon of white wound itself around their wrists. A final tap and the magic sank into their skin. It set the low pulse of arousal in Hermione's core aflame.

"My turn," Adrian turned to her with a grin.

"Bond us," Hermione said to Draco, her eyes never leaving Adrian's.

She made the same bond with Adrian that she did with Draco. Her alliances were secured.

"Fucking finally," Draco groaned and pulled her up from her throne-like chair and into his embrace. He crashed his lips against hers and devoured her mouth as a starving man devours his food. Adrian stepped behind her, his large hands settling heavily on her hips and his lips descending to her neck and shoulder.

Her alliance was secured, and as soon as their lust had been sated, she would begin her campaign for her empire.


	6. The Potions Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in August 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Luna and a potions accident. No beta other than Grammarly. Will also be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**

"Uh, Hermione?" Luna called out from the basement potions lab of their home. She was covered in a thick orange slime and it was starting to tingle. Her wand was halfway across the room and the sludge was making it difficult to move. She'd been experimenting with billywig's, in an attempt to create a potion that would attract the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Needless to say, her results did not work.

"Luna? Are you down there?" Hermione shouted from the top of the stairs.

"Oh, thank Circe," Luna muttered. "Yes! Please, can you come down to help? I've had a bit of an accident, you see…" she trailed off as the slime thickened again, holding her quite firmly in place. A large drop slid down her cheek before hardening. She really hoped this was something Hermione could deal with and she wouldn't have to take yet another trip to St Mungo's. She'd been twice already this month.

Hermione shuffled down the stairs and Luna knew that meant she was elbow deep in some obscure text, still reading it, despite traversing across the house and down the rickety steps to the cellar.

"Hermione," Luna said sharply. More sharply than she usually spoke, but it was the tone that always seemed to snap Hermione out of whatever her head was currently stuck in. And right now, Luna's feet were fixed quite firmly to the floor. She was going to need some assistance sooner rather than later.

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione exclaimed finally reaching the bottom of the stairs and glancing up from the massive tome in her hands. She hastily set the book on the stairs behind her and rushed forward.

"Don't touch it!" Luna warned. "It looks fluffy, but it hardens rather quickly. I'm afraid I am very stuck."

"Cripes," Hermione muttered and pulled out her wand. "What ingredients?"

"Billywig's mostly, a little nightshade, and some aconite."

"Hmm," Hermione thought as she poked at a large blob on Luna's shoulder. It was balanced precariously, and when Hermione's wand disturbed it, it fell off and hung from the back of Luna's robes.

"Also, heavy when dried," Luna groaned.

"Right," Hermione nodded. " _Evanesco_!" The blob hanging from Luna's shoulder disappeared. As did the clothes beneath it.

Luna shrugged, "I have a hair regrowth potion on the shelf."

Hermione nodded and set to work, vanishing every bit of orange sludge she could find. It wasn't long and Luna was entirely nude and half bald. Hermione turned from her, but Luna heard the giggle.

"I'm sure I look a fright," Luna said as she reached for the hair regrowth potion. She'd had plenty of potions accidents in her life, so it was a potion she usually kept in stock for occasions such as this. A quick swig of the potion and a warmth from her scalp and her long blonde hair was back. Hermione turned just in time to see the finished product.

"Eh?" Luna asked, giving a small turn.

"Gorgeous," Hermione smiled and pulled Luna into her arms.

"You too," Luna muttered as Hermione leaned in to kiss her. Kissing Hermione always set off a race in Luna's heart. It thumped loudly as she tangled her hands in Hermione's hair, holding her wife tightly. "Too many clothes," Luna muttered when Hermione pulled away and began kissing along Luna's jaw.

Hermione nodded and a flick of her wand and she was naked too. Luna moaned at the feeling of Hermione's skin on hers. So smooth, so soft. Luna trailed her hands down Hermione's back as she lost herself in her witch's body. Hermione was always there to soothe away the sting of a potions accident.


	7. Anima Coniugi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in September 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Lucius and Soulmates. No beta other than Grammarly. Will also be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**

The soulmate spell wasn't supposed to go like this. She was certainly no longer in the library at Grimmauld Place anymore. She would have to figure out where she was and hopefully get out of wherever it was without being noticed. Currently, she was in some sort of wardrobe. She could dimly see some robes hanging in front of her. It smelled fresh, so she was hopeful she wasn't in a moldy attic somewhere. She was just about to start pushing at walls, hoping one of them was a door when she heard a noise from outside the wardrobe.

A door opened nearby and suddenly she could hear heavy footsteps on the hardwood.  _Crap_ , Hermione thought as she shrank back to what she thought must be the back of the wardrobe. She hoped whoever it was that they wouldn't be opening the wardrobe anytime soon. The soulmate spell was supposed to take you to your soulmate. It would then light up your soulmate in a soft blue glow. Hermione should have spied Ron across the library. Obviously, she'd done the spell wrong to have ended up somewhere else.

_Or Ron isn't your soulmate_ , a voice whispered in Hermione's mind. She shook her head. Of course, Ron was her soulmate. She loved him! So clearly, it was a case of having performed the spell incorrectly. Or perhaps the spell didn't work? She and Ginny had found it in a dusty, old volume in the library at Grimmauld Place. Who knew if it was even a reputable spell?

Just then the door behind Hermione opened. She'd been leaning on it and promptly fell out onto her arse. Lucius Malfoy stood over her, glowing a soft blue.

"Fuck," Hermione muttered and closed her eyes.

"Really, Miss Granger. You come into my home unannounced and then proceed to curse at me?" Malfoy drawled.

"My apologies, Mr Malfoy," Hermione said as she made to stand. Malfoy surprisingly enough reached a hand out to steady her elbow. Hermione nodded her thanks and brushed at the seat of her trousers. "I'm afraid I've made a mistake."

"Would that mistake have anything to do with why I'm glowing blue?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione's eyes widened. The book hadn't said that other people or the soulmate themselves would be able to see the glow, just that the caster of the spell would. Perhaps the spell did work. She looked up at Malfoy, considering him. He was old, true, but not that old. And he still looked good for his age with a flat stomach and broad shoulders.

"Please don't tell me you did the  _Anima Coniugi_  spell?" Malfoy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Er… I won't then," Hermione replied.

"Fuck," Malfoy muttered.

"Indeed."


	8. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in October 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Viktor and huddling for warmth. No beta other than Grammarly. Will also be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words. This one is a Muggle AU. Find me on tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

"Fuck, again?" Hermione groaned as she banged the radiator in her flat. It rattled, spat, and fell silent. She could practically feel the cold seep through the holes and cracks in her dilapidated home. This was the third time this winter that the heat had stopped working. Her landlord was more of a slumlord and didn't respond to anything except complaints from the city housing council. The problem with the city housing council? Hermione could only reach them during business hours during the week. It just turned six in the evening on a Friday. She'd be without heat all weekend. And Monday was a bank holiday. And even then, it may take her landlord Giles Robinson a week or more to finally getting around to fix the heat. Maybe she should start saving to move somewhere else.

Hermione huffed a breath and stood from her spot next to the radiator in the sitting room. It was the biggest room in the flat, so she gathered all of the blankets and pillows she could find and dragged them back to her bedroom. It looked like she'd be living out of her bedroom this weekend. Perhaps she could run to the store and find a couple of cans of soup on sale.

She dug through her purse and came up with four quid. It might be enough to get her two or three cans. That would be enough to last the weekend right? She found the paper she'd pilfered from her boss's trashcan that morning and checked the forecast. Below zero and snow expected. Well, however many of cans of soup it would buy, it would have to be enough.

On her way back from the shops, Hermione ran into her downstairs neighbor, Viktor Krum. He was devastatingly handsome, and Hermione always felt tongue-tied around him. He was way out of her league, whatever Ginny had to say about it.

"Hermione," Viktor said in his light Bulgarian accent.

"Viktor, hi. How are you?"

"Cold," Viktor said sardonically. "Heat's out again. Did you hear?"

"I know," Hermione sighed. "I've left a message with both Robinson and the housing council, but it's Friday, so…" she shrugged her shoulders as she trailed off.

"Right," Viktor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione watched as his muscles bunched beneath his shirt. His sweatshirt rode up his flat, impeccable abs as he raised his arm and Hermione found herself biting her lip at that delicious peek of his smooth, warm skin.

"Hermione?" Viktor said.

Hermione flushed and looked up to see him smirking at her. He leaned against the doorway of his flat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Er, I should go," Hermione said. Holding up her bag from the grocer's. "Need to put these away."

"Sure," Viktor nodded to her and smiled. Hermione hurried up the stairs cursing herself. It was bad enough she had a tiny, eensy, little crush on Viktor, and now he seemed to know about it. God, she was an idiot.

* * *

Several hours later, Hermione had finished one meager can of soup and was still hungry when there was a knock on her front door. She was surprised to see Viktor standing there.

"Hi," Hermione greeted him. What was he doing here?

"Sorry to impose," Viktor shivered, even through his winter coat, Hermione could see he was cold. "But I was sort of hoping I could come in? It's at least five degrees warmer up here."

"Oh! Um, sure, I guess," Hermione said, opening the door wider for him. "I'm er, in the bedroom actually, it's smaller, and I can keep the door closed."

"I brought a portable heater," Viktor offered, showing the small appliance to Hermione. She looked at it enviously, she'd wanted one, but didn't want to even know what that would turn her electric bill into. She'd deal with it if Viktor would share it with her, even for just a few hours tonight.

"God, yes, come in then," Hermione ushered him inside and down the hall to her bedroom. She had covered the window with one of her heaviest quilts.

Her and Viktor sat next to each other on her double bed after he plugged in the space heater, both holding their hands out over the small amount of heat the appliance gave off.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Hermione hummed.

"Can't believe you don't have one," Viktor muttered.

Hermione snorted. "Can't afford the electric bill on it."

Viktor nodded and didn't say anything more.

After a few moments, Hermione dug out the book she'd been reading, offering Viktor a selection from her tiny library. Viktor chose a detective novel Hermione's dad had given her years ago and they sat in companionable silence for a while.

An hour or so later, Hermione felt herself nodding off, her head fell onto Viktor's shoulder.

"God, sorry," Hermione yawned.

"It's alright. Why don't you lie down?" Viktor suggested.

"Are you sure? I can stay up a little longer."

"No. You're tired, lie down for a bit," Viktor insisted.

"Alright." Hermione took off her parka and dressed in only her sweats, she curled up on the far side of the bed, under her comforter and a thick knitted blanket.

* * *

Viktor must have fallen asleep at some point because when Hermione woke up in the middle of the night she was hot. She pushed one of the blankets off her and fell back asleep.

The second time she woke up, it wasn't quite the heat or lack thereof that woke her. A hand had crept around her middle, underneath her sweatshirt, smoothing along the skin of her stomach.

Hermione held her breath as it reached higher and higher, skating along the curve of her breast.

"Viktor?" she whispered.

Either Viktor was asleep, or a good actor. He snatched his hand away. "Oh God, I'm so sorry Hermione. I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," Hermione assured him. Then she bit her lip. "I kind of liked it."

"Really?" Viktor asked in disbelief.

Hermione turned to face him in the dim light of the room. She nodded. "Yeah, it felt nice."

Tentatively, Viktor reached a hand back out and slid it under her sweatshirt. Hermione gasped at the feeling of his hot skin pressed to hers and arched her back, encouraging him to reach his hand higher. Viktor slid his hand up her stomach and cupped one of her breasts. Hermione grabbed onto his arm in appreciation when he thumbed her nipple.

"Feels good," she panted. And then Viktor's lips were on hers, slanting across her mouth and plundering his tongue inside. He was a phenomenal kisser and Hermione pulled at him until he was lying on top of her.

"God, don't stop," Hermione muttered as Viktor began kissing down the side of her neck. If this was what her weekend of no heat had in store for her, Hermione thought she might have to write her landlord a thank you note.


	9. The Wedding Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in January 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Fred and fake dating. No beta other than Grammarly. I will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words. Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

"This is ridiculous." Hermione was barely able to speak for laughing. What Fred had proposed was so hilarious she felt like she could barely breathe.

"What's ridiculous about it?" Fred wiggled his eyebrows at her. He propped his elbows onto the worktop and leaned toward her.

"Nobody would ever believe we're dating!" Hermione protested and pushed back from the worktop. She wrinkled her nose even as another giggle slipped out.

Fred frowned at her and Hermione suddenly worried that she had offended him.

"Not good enough for you, Granger?" Fred asked. Hermione definitely heard the bravado barely covering the hurt.

"It's not that, Fred," Hermione insisted. "It's just. Ron's getting  _married_. I'm not going to show up at his wedding on the arm of his brother." The conversation had suddenly taken a serious tone.

"Bloody wanker never deserved you," Fred grouched.

Hermione snorted, unable to help herself as she stood, pushing her stool out of the way.

"Fred," Hermione pleaded with him as she walked around the worktop. He'd slumped down onto the worktop, burying his head into his arms. She slung her arm around his shoulders. "What's this really about?"

"I just think you deserved better than  _him_ ," Fred mumbled.

" _I'm_  not marrying Ron this weekend, you know that right?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, I know that. Bloody Romilda has been hanging around the Burrow for months. Annoying git."

"Explain it to me," Hermione said. "Because I still don't understand."

Fred snorted, finally looking up from his arms. "Go with me to Ron's wedding."

"Are we still 'fake' dating?" Hermione asked.

"You tell me?" Fred breathed. He stood and Hermione felt dwarfed suddenly. He was so much taller than her. Her eyes bounced between his warm brown ones and his suddenly, kissable looking lips.

Hermione smirked at him, and grasped the front of his robes, pulling him to her and planting her lips on his. She could feel his grin as he wrapped an arm around her waist; the other hand cupping her chin, directing their kiss.

"No need to fake it anymore," Hermione whispered.

"Good," Fred murmured, slanting his lips over hers once more.


	10. WiPP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in February 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Marcus and Marriage LAw. No beta other than Grammarly. I will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words. Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

Marcus Flint stared glumly at the piece of parchment in front of him. How had this even happened? He narrowed his eyes at the parchment as if glaring at it would give him the answers he was searching for. None were forthcoming. He read the whole thing again, just to make sure it said what he thought it did.

_Dear Marcus Tiberius Flint,_

_Congratulations! You have been matched in the Ministry of Magic's Wizarding Perpetuity Program! You'll find all the details of the law on pages two through seven (2-7) paragraphs A through P._

_You were matched with:_

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_Please arrange a time to speak with your intended within the next week. A marriage is expected to be performed between you within sixty (60) days of receiving this notice._

_As a reminder failure to comply with the Wizarding Perpetuity Program will result in your expulsion from the wizarding world including the snapping of your wand and a thorough Obliviation._

_Sincerely,_

_Wendella Bridgeport_

_Junior Minister of the Department of Marriages, Births, and Deaths_

It said the same thing it did a moment ago. What was this tosh about a Wizarding Perpetuity Program? And marriage? How could  _he_  marry Hermione Granger? How was any of this possible?

He wasn't as stupid as most made him out to be, he knew who Hermione Granger was and there was no way she would consent to be alone in the same room with him, let alone marry him. He crumpled the parchment, without reading the bits about the requirements of the law and tossed it into his rubbish bin. It had to be a joke. He stood up and left the room, grabbing his broom on the way, he was going to be late to practice if he didn't hurry.

Unbeknownst to Marcus, the parchment unfolded itself and flew across the room to land on his desk once again.

* * *

Marcus was dead tired when he returned from practice, he flew directly to the front door of his apartment building, removing he Disillusionment Charm the moment he landed and ascertained no Muggles were about. He'd worked himself hard, trying to forget about that bit of parchment he'd thrown away earlier. Marcus took the four flights of stairs up to his flat. He lived in Portree, preferring to live close to his team training facility rather than the ancestral manor home in the South of Wales. He hated that place.

He stopped short when he spotted Granger leaning against his door, waiting for him. The very witch that had been on his mind the majority of the day was now standing before him. She was in fashionable work robes that showed off her figure and Marcus swallowed hard.

"Hello," she said. She sounded pleasant enough, but Marcus was still wary. She was a war hero, venerated in their society while he played for a Quidditch team that barely broke the halfway mark on the ladder each season. Why was she here?

"Hullo," Marcus replied sullenly. He could barely meet her eye and dropped his gaze to the floor. Any moment she would begin berating him for something that he knew wasn't his fault, but who could blame her? Why would she want to be stuck with him for the rest of her life? Nobody in their right mind would want that.

"Can we go inside...maybe talk a bit?" she asked. Her voice was soft and Marcus thought maybe she sounded nervous. He chanced a glance up to her face to see she was biting her bottom lip. Heat suffused him and he looked away quickly again. He nodded and approached the door. She stepped aside and he unlocked it with a flick of his wand.

He walked through the door briskly, sending his broom off to where it belonged with a flick of his wand as he headed toward the kitchen.

"Tea?" he mumbled, not caring whether she actually responded or not.

"Sure," she said. "I can make it though. It looks like you just came from practice. Would you want to shower before we talk?"

Marcus whirled around and glared at her. Why was she being so nice? The truth was, he  _did_ want to shower. It was his ritual to come home from practice and have a shower and a wank. He clenched his jaw, no way was he going to be able to relax enough to have a wank with her in his flat.

"Tea things are above the cooker," Marcus grunted. He edged around her and headed for the bathroom. He didn't understand what was going on and hoped that she would explain herself once they sat down to have a cuppa.

He rushed through his shower and was back out in the sitting room in record time. Granger already had the tea tray set up on the coffee table and was pouring for them both. He settled next to her uneasily on the sofa, the only other piece of furniture in the room. She looked at him with a question in her eyes.

"Splash of milk and a lump," Marcus said. She added the milk and sugar and gave the cup a delicate stir before handing it to him.

After fixing her own, she leaned back into the sofa and sipped her tea. She smiled faintly, before settling the cup in her lap and piercing him with her frank gaze. He looked away, sipping his own tea.

After several long moments where Marcus could feel her watching him and he refused to look at her, he finally spoke. "Why are you here?"

"Didn't you get the announcement about the whip?" Granger asked.

"The what?" Marcus asked, eyes widening.

"The WiPP, the Wizarding Perpetuity Program,"

Marcus grunted, he hated all the acronyms thrown around by the Ministry. "I was hoping that was a prank."

Granger laughed, a tinkling sound that Marcus thought was rather pleasant.

"If only," she said after a moment. "No, it's quite real."

"Doesn't explain why you are here," Marcus said. He finished his tea and set the cup on the coffee table. Immediately he wished he still had something to fiddle with or a reason to not look at her.

"More?" Granger asked, leaning forward.

Marcus shook his head.

Granger sighed and leaned back again. Marcus could smell the faint scent of her perfume, orange blossoms, vanilla, and something he couldn't quite place. It was lovely.

"I'm here because we've been matched, Marcus," Granger said after a long moment. "I was hoping we could come to an arrangement and pick a date to hold the wedding."

"Why aren't you trying to get out of this?" Marcus asked. Suddenly he was angry. "Why would you want to marry  _me_? You're a war hero, go use your influence to get out of this and leave me alone."

"Marcus," Hermione said placing her hand on his arm. He flinched but didn't remove her hand from him. It was warm and felt rather nice. "I have to follow the law, same as everyone else. The truth is, I was part of the reason the law was created in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Marcus asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

Granger sighed. "I am an Arithmancer for the Ministry. About a year and a half ago I was asked to look at population numbers and when we realized that without some sort of drastic policy change, we were going to go extinct in a few hundred years, well the Wizarding Perpetuity Program came into being."

"But surely you could find someone else," Marcus said. "Someone more worthy of you and your fame. Someone more Gryffindor."

Granger laughed again and this time Marcus wondered if she was laughing at him. Because he was stupid. He hunched his shoulders and half turned away from her.

"Oh, Merlin, Marcus! I wasn't laughing at you," Granger said. She pulled on his shoulder to get him to face her again. She was quite a bit closer to him and Marcus' heart began to beat faster. "I was laughing because the Arithmantic equations to match people were mine. I worked on them for six months solid and ran them against every test I could. Even if I  _could_  petition for someone else, I wouldn't want to. According to magic, you're my perfect match." She smiled up at him then and Marcus recognized that the heat he was feeling was desire.

"Perfect match?" Marcus asked.

Granger nodded. "I triple checked when I figured out it was going to be you. I wasn't even upset, I just wanted to be sure."

Marcus flinched at her words. "How could you not be upset? You should be with someone like you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Granger asked, scooting away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Someone beautiful. Someone not tainted by a past. Someone not stupid enough to have to repeat his seventh year at Hogwarts," Marcus said. What did she think he meant?

"But none of those things matter," Granger said. She moved closer, kneeling on the sofa now and placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face so she could see his eyes. "What matters is what's in your heart. Your magic and my magic were meant to be. That's what those Arithmantic equations mean. They find your perfect match. You didn't have anyone else on your list and neither did I."

Marcus looked up at her then, her brilliant brown eyes were shining down on him with such hopefulness that he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He started to pull away, embarrassed by his actions when she followed his lips with her own. She slipped and landed awkwardly in his lap.

"Sorry," she murmured. She was half-lying in his lap, propping herself up against the armrest and had her lower lip between her teeth.

"I'm not," Marcus said, pressing another kiss to her lips. They were soft and inviting and he couldn't seem to stop himself. When she opened his mouth under him, he groaned and slipped a hand behind her head, holding her to him. Another hand went to her waist and he pulled until she was straddling him. She rolled her hips and Marcus' half-hard cock went to full mast so quickly he felt dizzy.

He breathed heavily, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against hers.

"You alright?" she asked him softly, her hand caressing his face. He leaned into the touch. The only times he was touched these days was on the Quidditch pitch and his eyes fluttered closed at the pleasure of it.

"Yeah," he said after a moment, licking his lips and opening his eyes. She was staring at him so frankly that he wanted to close them again.

"I think this is going to work out in the end, Marcus," she murmured her lips quirking up in a small smile.

"Yeah," Marcus said returning the smile and pressing his lips to hers again. He'd do anything to keep her in his life now.

_~Fin~_


	11. Raising Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in March 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Harry. I got to choose my trope, but did a Wheel Decide (seriously the best thing ever) and it chose Time Travel for me! No beta other than Grammarly. I will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words. Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**
> 
> ****

"Are we actually doing this?" Harry asked, looking around the carnage that was Hogwarts.

"What option do we have?" Hermione hissed, gritting her teeth. They were gone, everyone was gone. Sure, Tom Riddle was gone too, but so was everyone else. It was just Hermione and Harry left. They hadn't been to the Ministry, but it seemed as if everyone in the wizarding world was dead. The concussive blast of Hermione's shield charm killed the entire battlefield.

"How far back?" Harry asked as Hermione looped the chain of the Time-Turner over his head. She stumbled on some debris underfoot and looked down as Harry steadied her by placing his hands on her hips. Her heart beat rapidly, but all she could see was the severed hand under her foot. She couldn't think about the implications of Harry's hands because the only thing in her field of vision was that bloodied stump.

"Hermione," Harry asked, tilting her head up with a finger under the chin to look at him. Her eyes were wide and she took a deep breath as the calm in Harry's eyes calmed her. "How far back?"

"W-Would you like to see your parents again?" Hermione asked. "We could go back to the late '70s. Get rid of all the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort before he gets to your parents."

Harry swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. Hermione's eyes flicked down to watch it, then to his lips, and finally to his eyes. She knew the idea was tempting. It was so very tempting.

"What if we go further back?" Harry asked.

"Do we kill baby Hitler?" Hermione responded. "I don't know."

Harry shook his head, not understanding. Hermione explained, "It's a thought experiment, except it doesn't have to be. If you could go back in time and kill baby Hitler, would you? If you say yes, good God, you're a baby killer. If you say no, but it's Hitler! Either way…"

"A catch twenty-two," Harry mused.

"We don't have to kill him," Hermione said. "We could go back far enough to adopt him."

"Raise him as our own." Harry gazed down at her, contemplating the idea.

"Guide him to become the great wizard he could be instead of the terrible one he was," Hermione whispered, suddenly caught by the idea of molding Tom Riddle in her own image.

"He'd still rival Dumbledore," Harry cautioned.

"Because Dumbledore's 'Greater Good' was such a good policy?" Hermione snorted. "Besides, we'd have the benefit of precognition."

Harry bit his lip and looked away, across the ruined school that held all of his happiest memories. "Let's do it."

"Alright," Hermione agreed calmly. She did the math in her head. Tom Riddle was born in 1926, they would have to travel back seventy-two years. "We aren't prepared," she said suddenly, shaking her head and going to remove the Time-Turner from around their necks. There was so much to do, to figure out before traveling back so far...

Harry stilled her hands before she could remove the chain from their necks. "There's no time. We do it now, knowing we're never coming back here."

Hermione looked up at him, trusting that he would be with her through it all. She turned back to the Time-Turner and made the requisite calculations, moving the rings precisely. Barely breathing as she worked. Harry's hands were warm on her wrists.

"Do it," Harry whispered, holding her to him tightly, wrapping his strong arms around her. Just as she let the pin fall and the rings spin, Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

_**~Fin~** _


	12. Little Red and the Wood Cutter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in May 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Hermione/Neville, Potions Accident, and Fairytale. This month we were charged with writing a crack!fic. Mine may have turned more horror than crack...? I dunno, I'm bad at crack, you decide.**
> 
> **No beta other than Grammarly. I will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring Hermione. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words. Although this one turned into a proper one-shot. Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

"Neville, no!" Hermione shouted she reached across the table, attempting to knock the knotweed out of Neville's hand before he added it to their Dreamless Sleep potion, but she wasn't fast enough. A puff of lavender smoke drifted up from the roiling red potion and a small boom flattened Hermione and Neville both to the ground. Hermione's head hit the stone floor of the dungeon rather hard and when she opened her eyes, she found she wasn't in the dungeon anymore.

She was near the edge of a forest, a thin layer of green-colored fog hung low to the ground. Hermione sat up slowly and rubbed the back of her head where she'd hit the floor. She looked around for anyone familiar, but she was all alone.

"Merlin, what in the hell has Neville done now?" she groused to herself as she stood on wobbly legs. That's when she noticed the red-cape tied around her shoulders. A hood hung down her back. What sort of potion changed someone's clothes? Or maybe this wasn't the potion at all, but the result of her head injury?

Hermione groaned and rubbed the goose egg on the back of her head once more. Her head was truly pounding now when she heard a rustling behind her. Whirling around she saw Madam Hooch striding her way with a basket in her hands.

"There you are Little Red Riding Hood!" Madam Hooch shouted, making Hermione's head ache all the more. "You've forgotten your basket. I think you'd forget your head if it wasn't attached to your body."

"M-Madam Hooch?" Hermione grimaced and squinted at the other witch. She was dressed in a medieval type dress with a drab, brown cloak around her shoulders.

"No idea what you're talking about, girl, usually you just call me mother," Madam Hooch insisted, shoving the basket into Hermione's hands. "Now, get that to your grandmothers before it gets dark. I don't expect you back until tomorrow. There are wolves in those woods and you don't want to get caught by one."

"Right," Hermione shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. How was it possible that she ended up here? Or was this just a concussive nightmare?

"And don't forget, talk to nobody on your way!" Madam Hooch shouted as she turned Hermione around by her shoulders. She gave her a shove in the back and Hermione stumbled forward onto the small path at the edge of the woods. "Careful, now!"

Hermione nodded and kept going. Perhaps if she finished the story out, she would wake up? It was as valid an idea as any, so Hermione walked.

The woods were dense and hardly any of the sun, which was already covered in clouds, filtered through the thick layer of trees. The further Hermione walked, the more her hair stood up on end. She felt as though she was being watched, but every time she turned around, nobody else was there. The birds were still singing and she could hear the occasional animal in the undergrowth, so whoever it was, they weren't a predator.

She'd been walking for at least an hour when she began to hear the sound of someone chopping wood. It was low at first, a dull thud here or there, but the further she walked, the louder it got until she could hear whoever it was grunting with exertion. She rounded a bend in the trail and there was a sight that Hermione was sure she'd never get out of her mind.

Neville was chopping wood. His shirt was off and tucked into his trousers, his bare chest was glistening with sweat and when his muscles rippled under his skin, Hermione moaned and was sure that was drool slipping out of her mouth. When in the world had Neville grown up? His face looked the same, but Merlin, his body. Hermione's nipples tightened in response to what she was seeing and she almost dropped the basket looped through her arm when he raised the ax above his head once more and brought it down swiftly onto the log before him.

"Neville?" Hermione finally said. Madam Hooch hadn't recognized her, but Neville had been part of the potions accident. If this was a result of the potions accident, hopefully, Neville would recognize her. If it was some nightmare of her own creation...well, perhaps she would need to start seeing Neville in a different light.

"Oh, Merlin, Hermione!" Neville dropped the ax when he saw her. He took a few steps, but couldn't move out of the small clearing he was in. Hermione hurried toward him.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, looking around.

"I could ask you the same thing. Are we…" he trailed off and shook his head.

"It must be a side-effect of the potion," Hermione explained.

"I'm sorry," Neville said, hanging his head.

"Don't be," Hermione replied. She reached out and touched his arm with her hand, a spark igniting through her fingertips and up her arm. She gasped at the feel of it, but couldn't bring herself to move her hand from his well-muscled arm.

Neville's eyes darkened as he peered down at her. His chest heaving still from his exertion with chopping the wood.

"You're the wood cutter," Hermione muttered.

"What?" Neville asked, cocking his head to one side.

"It's a Muggle fairytale. I have no idea how we ended up  _inside_  it though. Little Red Riding Hood. Do you know it?"

Neville shook his head. "Tell it to me."

"Basically, Little Red Riding Hood goes through the forest to visit her sick grandmother. A wolf accosts her and runs ahead to her grandmother's cottage. In some versions, he eats the grandmother, in others, the grandmother hides. When Red Riding Hood happens upon the cottage, the wolf attacks her. She runs away and a wood cutter comes and saves her from the wolf. Again, in the version where Grandmother is eaten, the wood cutter cuts open the wolves belly and saves Grandmother. In other versions, the wolf just runs away to never be seen again."

"That would be why I can't leave the clearing then," Neville said. "I must not be able to leave until it's time to save you."

"Madam Hooch was my mother," Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. "The most un-motherly woman I could think of."

"Who will the wolf be?" Neville asked with some concern.

Hermione shook her head. "Or Grandmother? I don't know."

"You'll have to keep going," Neville urged. "The faster we're through the story, hopefully, we'll wake up or the potion will wear off or whatever."

"I hope this is the version where Grandmother hides," Hermione muttered as she turned back to the trail. She missed Neville shuddering in distaste behind her.

"Me too," he agreed, watching her go. "Be careful, Hermione."

She waved her hand at him and continued on her way. The strange green fog from earlier seemed to thicken the further she got into the woods. The feeling of being followed grew stronger as the sound of Neville's chopping grew distant. Hermione's steps increased, her pulse thrummed in her ears until she was practically running.

"Why so fast, girl," a silky voice, hissed from in front of her.

Hermione stopped in her tracks to see a wolf step out onto the path before her. A wolf that looked suspiciously similar to Professor Snape.

"I am in a hurry," Hermione replied. "Please let me pass."

"And where is such a delicious morsel like you off to?" the wolf asked, leering at her. Hermione shuddered beneath his stare but stood her ground. She knew how the story was supposed to go. All she had to do was follow along and hopefully come out on the other side of it alive, awake, and in Hogwarts. She wasn't even certain she was dreaming. It was all so confusing.

"My grandmother is ill. I'm taking her some food," Hermione answered.

"Ah, what a good granddaughter you are," the wolf sneered. It was eerie hearing Professor Snape's voice out of the huge beast before her. "And your grandmother lives here? In these woods?" The wolf was practically salivating and Hermione shivered.

"At the end of the path," she whispered. She had tried to stop herself from saying it, but it seemed that  _something_  was keeping her on track. Probably the same thing that kept Neville in his clearing.

The wolf grinned lewdly and bounded away into the woods. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that he was no longer before her, but was terrified about what was to come. This certainly seemed like the darker version of this tale.

It was another hour before she reached the cottage that she knew in her bones was her grandmother's. She bit her lip, knowing what was to come, but unable to stop herself from entering the cottage anyway.

"Grandmother!" she shouted the moment the door was shut.

"In the bedroom, dear," a scratchy voice that sounded distinctly  _not_  like her grandmother answered. Hermione tried to turn around. She tried to open the door behind her, but her body didn't cooperate with her mind. Her feet strode swiftly forward to the bedroom at the back of the cottage.

She knew it wasn't her grandmother in the bed, but the wolf did look surprisingly similar. It was an interesting observation. Hermione had always thought that the story of Little Red Riding Hood was silly. How could a wolf look like a grandmother? But here she was, knowing it was a wolf, but shocked to see her grandmother. Who also seemed to resemble Professor McGonagall? Professor Snape, imitating a wolf, imitating Professor McGonagall, imitating Red Riding Hood's grandmother. It was all very confusing.

"I've brought you some dinner, Grandmother," Hermione said, willing her feet to stay near the door.

"Come closer, my child," Grandmother beckoned. Hermione tried to not move, but the story was going to have its way with her and she found herself standing too close to the bed.

"My, what big eyes you have, Grandmother," Hermione's voice said, seemingly of its own volition. But now that she'd said it, all she could see was those huge, black eyes that so resembled Snape's staring at her.

"All the better to  _see_  you with, my dear."

"And what sharp teeth you have," Hermione commented, unable to tear her eyes away from the wolf's teeth.

"All the better to  _eat_  you with," the wolf growled, leaping out of bed and onto Hermione. He knocked her down hard and now all Hermione could see was the strange wolf-Snape combination above her. She screamed as loud as she could, hoping Neville could hear her as she pushed at the wolf, attempting to dislodge it.

She got a good kick in and was scrambling to her feet when the door to the cottage burst open and a shirtless Neville strode through it, his ax already raised.

"P-Professor Snape!" Neville squeaked upon seeing who the wolf was.

"Now Neville!" Hermione screamed as she stumbled forward. The wolf-Snape hybrid caught her by the back of her knees and she hit the floor hard again. That seemed to jolt Neville out of his stupor and he strode forward, lifting his ax above his head.

"Let her go!" Neville shouted.

"Never!" the wolf growled, licking up Hermione's exposed calf.

THUNK!

Neville swung the ax down hard, directly into the back of the wolf's head.

Hermione cried out as she felt the spray of blood and brains over her back and she scurried forward from beneath the heavy body of the wolf. The wolf had fully changed into Professor Snape and Hermione stared in horror.

"What have I done?" Neville whispered, shaking. He grabbed Hermione by the arm and pulled her to him as Snape's body shuddered one last time.

"Oh, Merlin, Neville," Hermione whispered in shock.

"Well, I can't say I'm unhappy about it," a sharp voice said from behind them.

Hermione whirled around to see Professor McGonagall moonlighting as her grandmother standing in the doorway.

"Grandmother!" Hermione cried and stumbled forward into her arms.

"I'm glad you weren't harmed, child. That wolf has been stalking these woods for long enough. Your wood cutter did us a great service," McGonagall said, patting Hermione's back.

"I-I didn't mean to," Neville whispered, looking back and forth between Hermione and her grandmother and the dead wolf on the floor.

"Nonsense, he needed to go. It was his time. You are a hero, young man." McGonagall strode forward and patted Neville's bare shoulder as she passed him. She grasped the back of Snape's neck, lifting him up for Hermione and Neville to see his face. Hermione recoiled and Neville, pulled her into his side again, allowing her to bury her face into his chest.

"He'll make a nice throw rug, won't he?" McGonagall grinned. Hermione couldn't bear to look and kept her eyes closed, her head against Neville's firm, bare chest.

...

"Miss Granger!" a sharp voice near Hermione's ear shouted.

Hermione bolted up in the bed was in only to find she wasn't alone in the bed.

"Oof," Neville grunted as Hermione's elbow landed on his bare, well-muscled chest. Hermione turned bright red. She and Neville were in the hospital wing, as was Professor Snape, who thankfully did  _not_  have a large ax wound in the back of his head. Madam Pomfrey stood over her, looking disappointed.

"Uh," Hermione didn't feel very articulate, she wasn't sure what happened.

"Next time you want to go experimenting with potions Miss Granger, I suggest you  _do not_  experiment with Dreamless Sleep! It's highly addictive and dangerous. Lucky for you that only you, Mr Longbottom, and Professor Snape were dosed. Now get out of my hospital wing," Madam Pomfrey hissed.

Hermione scrambled up and out of the bed, hurrying out of the hospital wing and into the corridor. She didn't even bother to correct Madam Pomfrey, the entire ordeal had been so embarrassing.

"Hermione! Wait!" Neville shouted from behind her, bringing her to a stop.

"Sorry, Neville," Hermione muttered and felt her cheeks heat again when she realized he was still shirtless. "Where is your shirt?" she said sharper than she meant.

Neville shrugged. "I'm not sure," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. The action made every muscle in his chest bunch and move and Hermione's breath came in pants before she dropped her gaze to the floor between them.

"And I'm sorry," Neville said. "It was my fault. No idea why Pomfrey thought it was yours. I told her, though, when you left that it was my fault. I suspect she was angry at you for climbing into my bed."

"I climbed into your bed?" Hermione whispered as mortification flooded her body. Could today get any worse? She backed away from Neville and her back hit the corridor wall, but before she could slide down it and bury her head into her knees, Neville stepped closer to her and placed a hand on her cheek, lifting her gaze to his. She could feel her cheeks burn in embarrassment and wasn't surprised to see Neville's face was also ablaze.

"I didn't mind it," Neville murmured with a small shrug, reminding Hermione once more that he wasn't wearing a shirt. "I think I kind of liked it."

Hermione gasped as his thumb traced along her jaw.

"Did you like it?" he whispered, his face just inches from hers. Hermione nodded. Merlin, she  _had_  liked it. Neville was fit and as embarrassed as she was to see him without his shirt it wasn't because she didn't like it, it was because she liked it  _too_  much. Neville didn't say anything else, he just pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

_**~Fin~** _


End file.
